With all but Qingshui and Li Qianmei found, their former lives either unlocked or chosen to be forgotten in quiet departure, Wang Lin found himself unmoored on the vast Xian罡 Continent. No longer did anything hold him there.

Before his departure from Tianniu Continent, Wang Lin cast his gaze upon Zhou Yi and Qing Shuang. From afar, he watched, and when he saw the blissful smile upon Zhou Yi’s face, Wang Lin mirrored it. He rejoiced for Zhou Yi.

Millennia of longing had finally reached a perfect culmination. As Wang Lin beheld this scene, he raised a wine gourd and took a deep draught. The gourd, a relic from Situ Nan, served as a proxy for the celebratory wine he could not share with Zhou Yi and Qing Shuang.

He also journeyed to the Ancestral City, where he saw Hai Zi. But after only a distant glance, Wang Lin turned and departed.

Tianniu Continent, the land where he first set foot upon Xian罡, had seen him absent for countless years. Now, Wang Lin returned. He walked the familiar soil, passing the Grand Soul Sect and the Returning One Sect, continuing along the well-worn path.

Each sight evoked memories of days long past. In the very heart of Tianniu Continent, amidst a range of mountains, Wang Lin gazed down and was silent for a time.

“Tianniu,” he finally spoke, his voice echoing in the stillness, “the armor formed from your divided soul aided me through many perilous trials. I, Wang Lin, am ever mindful of debts and grudges. You were of service to me in the past; today, I shall unseal the Celestial Ancestor’s bindings upon you, that you may be free!

“But your body has become the very land itself, impossible to reclaim. I shall release the seal upon your soul, allowing it to condense into a nascent spirit, free to depart the Xian罡 Continent. Do you accept this?” Wang Lin asked of the earth.

His words were not loud, nor did they carry far, but the moment they were uttered, the earth trembled violently. A low rumble resonated, and a force like the very breath of the land surged forth, blurring the mountains and giving rise to the faint image of a colossal entity.

It was a Heavenly Bull, so vast that it seemed capable of holding up the heavens. Compared to this apparition, Wang Lin appeared minuscule. Yet, the massive bull-soul bowed respectfully before him.

“Thank… you… I accept…” a buzzing sound resonated, filled with both elation and yearning. Imprisoned for an age beyond reckoning, its release was finally at hand, and the Heavenly Bull felt boundless gratitude towards Wang Lin.

“There is no need for thanks. You aided me once, and this is merely a repayment of that debt,” Wang Lin replied, raising his right hand. As he pointed, the Heavenly Bull shuddered, writhing in pain. Countless runes flashed across its ethereal form, taking root as though they had always been there. From these runes, a web of thread-like filaments grew, connecting to form a sphere within the bull’s ghostly body. A beating heart of sorts.

This was the Seal-Heart of Tianniu’s prison.

Wang Lin pointed once more. With the gesture, the runes upon the Heavenly Bull shattered. The heart-shaped object trembled, shrinking at an astonishing rate.

Soon, it was no larger than a fingernail. Then, it burst from the Heavenly Bull’s soul as a wisp of dark light, landing in Wang Lin’s palm. He crushed it.

The Heavenly Bull threw back its head and howled, a sound that sent ripples through the sky. With a surge of power, its soul shot toward the heavens. Pausing at the edge of the world, it looked back at Wang Lin, bowed one last time, and then streaked away like a shooting star until it was gone.

With the departure of the Heavenly Bull’s soul, Tianniu Continent seemed subtly altered, though the difference was difficult to define. Wang Lin watched until the soul disappeared, then turned towards the Seven Dao Sect.

The Seven Dao Sect, gateway to the Cave World.

A shrouded mountain, veiled in mist, where nothing could be seen clearly, and long abandoned. No one had ventured there in years. But on this day, a figure stood at its base, gazing upward.

A man in his middle years, clad in azure robes, studied the mountain and the swirling fog. Vaguely, he seemed to discern ruins of once-great halls hidden within the mist.

“Seven Dao Sect…” he murmured, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

“I have finally arrived…” The middle-aged man shook his head with a bitter smile. He began to ascend the broken path, moving slowly, as though memorizing every stone and plant. He moved toward the heart of the fog.

When he emerged into the light, at the mountain’s summit, he saw the shattered gates and crumbling halls of the Seven Dao Sect. He stood there, lost.

He surveyed all before him, then released a long sigh. Passing through the ruins, he came to a massive stone door connected to the mountain, completely sealed and covered in moss, reeking of decay.

The middle-aged man closed his eyes before the ancient door.

“The gate to the Cave World…” he whispered as he opened his eyes, a pained tone in his voice.

“Beyond this door lies the Cave World… I am a soul reincarnated from within.” He sighed softly. Since the return of his memories, he had slowly left his sect, guided by an instinct that led him to this place.

He had reached the Seven Dao Sect, the gate of the Cave World.

Trembling, he approached, lightly tracing the surface of the door with his fingers. At last, with grim determination, he turned to leave.

But as he turned, he froze. He saw Wang Lin standing behind him, a gentle smile on his face, dressed in white.

“Shifu…” Wang Lin spoke softly.

“Wang Lin…” The middle-aged man was none other than Qingshui! He had awakened to his past life, though the brand of his former existence was fading, imperceptible to all but Wang Lin.
Clear Water beheld Wang Lin, a smile blooming upon his face that swelled into a joyous roar. His heart, overflowing with unexpected delight, propelled him forward, and he embraced Wang Lin in a brotherly hug, which Wang Lin returned with equal mirth.

Before the gates of the ancient grotto, they sat together, Wang Lin drawing forth a bottle of potent spirit, which they shared with unbridled glee.

Time itself was forgotten as they wove tales of their lives, of trials overcome and triumphs celebrated, their laughter mingling with the sting of shared sorrows. These brothers of the Grotto World, reunited at last on the vast expanse of the Immortal Astral Continent.

When Wang Lin spoke of the Crimson Butterfly, Clear Water fell silent, a bitter smile twisting his lips as he drained a large draught of the fiery liquid.

“Let the memories that wish to fade do so,” he finally declared. “We are here, on this Immortal Astral Continent, and each must walk their own path. My path, however, will not lead to oblivion!

“Here, perhaps, lies the key to restoring Han Yan to life. There *must* be a way!” Clear Water murmured, his eyes fixed on some distant, unseen hope.

To resurrect one so long departed, whose very soul had dissolved into the ether, was beyond Wang Lin’s power. Yet, he held his tongue, for to strip a man of his hope was to leave him with only despair.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the misty veil, Clear Water rose to depart. He would not embrace oblivion, nor would he return to the Grotto World. He had come only to gaze upon the Seven Dao Sect, to witness the last vestiges of its existence.

His heart now at peace, having seen Wang Lin again, he felt no further earthly tether. Now, he would pursue his dream, even if it took a lifetime, even if it demanded countless cycles of rebirth. He would not yield.

Wang Lin watched Clear Water fade into the swirling mists, his expression a mask of conflicted emotions.

Of all their old companions, only Thirteen had chosen to follow Wang Lin back to the Grotto World. For Thirteen, to serve at his Master’s side was the greatest fulfillment he could ever desire.

The others, however, were burdened with their own responsibilities, their own destinies and bonds. Having been reborn, they had largely chosen to forget, to embrace a new beginning.

Wang Lin pushed open the gates of the grotto. As a blinding light erupted forth, he stepped within, the radiance swallowing him whole.

The gates swung shut once more.

The Seven Dao Sect remained shrouded in mist, a desolate ruin, lost to time and neglect.

The Grotto World…

The barrier that separated the world from the outside was strong, enduring the onslaughts of foreign powers for centuries. None had yet managed to breach its defenses.

Within the Grotto World, the name of Wang Lin had become legend, a tale told with reverence and disbelief. Many remembered him, but many more had let his memory slip into the mists of time.

Even among the cultivators of the Grotto World, this was so. Only on the Vermillion Bird Star, where his statue stood as a holy relic, did his tales continue to be whispered.

But there was another place where the legend of Wang Lin lived on – the New Immortal Realm!

This realm, forged by Wang Lin himself, was populated by survivors of the great war, those who had been drawn from the Four Great Star Fields of the Grotto World. Many had witnessed Wang Lin’s deeds, some had even fought alongside him against the invaders.

Mu Bingmei, she had not departed. She remained in the Grotto World, in the New Immortal Realm, awaiting the return of a single man.

Lord Blue Dream also remained, the strongest cultivator in the entire realm, a guardian watching over its safety. Others, such as Nan Yunzi, had also chosen to stay.

Yet now, the New Immortal Realm was shrouded in oppression, as if a dark cloud hung heavy in the sky, silencing the joy of its people.

Lord Blue Dream was gravely wounded.

Nan Yunzi’s physical form had been shattered, leaving only his spirit.

The sky above the realm bled crimson, countless shadowy figures flickering within the gore, their visages twisted in malice, as if tormented souls lurked in the bloodied firmament.

“My Master has granted you five days to choose. Three have passed. In these final two, I urge you to make a wise decision. Swear fealty to the Crimson Soul Sect, or face… death!” a young man proclaimed, his voice echoing from within the crimson sky. He wore robes of the deepest red, his gaze sweeping over the silent cultivators below.

“As for you, Mu Bingmei, you have but two days as well. When the defenses of the Immortal Realm fall, if you do not become my consort, I will obliterate the Vermillion Bird Star and shatter that statue of the man you call Lin!”

*(To be continued…)*